Hello!

Cutting to the nitty gritty of it, this account, and this story are being abandoned.

I (PenMelody) and Skarmoree have been here for just shy of 10 years, this fic being our longest both in length and in run.

We will not forget the amazing readers that helped our little one-shot grow into one hell of a monster fic, and we thank each and every one of you.

But alas, voltron is a past lover, that we have long since grieved and let go. The same applying to our account as a whole.

You can still find us over on ao3 (Writing under Skarmoree and CandycornCottageWench), and we would love to see some of you there.

But yes, this story is ending

....

Well not quite yet, I had one more chapter written that had yet to be edited. I leave it here in its imperfect state as our parting gift to you.

All our love

Typeclick

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Lance stared blankly at the opposite wall.

He was certain he had misheard, because the words being said to him didn't make sense. They did not belong in the same sentence, could not belong together.

He did not want them to.

"Are you sure?"

Muxis frowned, and Lance noticed that his hair seemed to stand on end, much like that of a startled cat.

It would have been funny in another situation, but Lance didn't have it in him to laugh.

"Unfortunately, I am"

Captain Olia looked pained, the datapad in her hand in danger of burning to ashes under her glare.

Lance cursed under his breath, surely this was a joke? Surely the captain would soon break into a smile and laugh at their dumfounded expressions. Surely?

Lance returned to staring at the wall.

Olia was not joking.

It had been too quiet lately. He should have realised something would happen soon.

Matt dead and Roy missing.

A scrap of paper caught his attention, the light breeze flowing from the vents disturbing it just enough to warrant his gaze.

Matt dead and Roy missing.

He was distantly aware of a slamming door as Olly staled from the kitchen, and the light sniffling of the three young children sat at the far end of the table. Faces distraught as they witnessed their first taste of war.

Matt dead and Roy missing.

"Do we have a last known location for-"

Lance stopped listening.

He briefly felt something heavy land on his shoulder, with it the message to come and find its owner later.

Matt dead and Roy missing.

The words seemed intent on burning themselves into his brain, the rustling of paper only temporarily rousing him from the phrase repeating itself over and over.

Matt dead and Roy missing.

He stood, dimly noting that he was now alone in the kitchen.

He made his way to the cabinets, reaching up to grab the scrap of paper from the very top shelf.

It was clearly old and well used, crinkled in a way that showed its age.

Lance laughed quietly as he read its contents. The recipe for peanut butter they had been trying to locate for ages.

Matt dead and Roy missing.

He stopped laughing.

His hands balled into fists without his permission, paper crumpling.

How many more people had to die like this?

How many people did he have to lose until the universe decided to give them a break?

How long did this war have to last until whatever god out there decided enough was enough?

Or would the fighting continue until there was nothing left, until all that remained of them and their enemy alike was the crumbling planets and civilisations that got caught in the cross fire.

His fists tensed again, the peanut butter recipe crushed further in his grip.

No.

He didn't want this anymore. He had never wanted this. Too many people had died. Too many families torn apart.

He placed the paper on the table, the hand written lettering catching his attention. He had not noticed it before, but Matt and Pidge had similar handwriting.

Gently he pressed the paper flat, brushing his thumb over the wrinkles until the recipe was once again legible. He should take care of this after all. It was the last piece of Matthew Holt after all.

And if nothing else, he was sure that Pidge would want it.

Matthew dead and Roy missing.

He glanced over to where the trio of young girls had previously been sitting. a grim expression decorating his face.

He would not let anyone else die. Not if he could help it.

As always, he had so much work to do.

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Thank you for reading!

Over and out

PenMelody (CandycornCottageWench) and Skarmoree